


Remembrance

by Rosie_Rues



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2017-09-20
Packaged: 2019-01-01 02:27:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12146664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosie_Rues/pseuds/Rosie_Rues
Summary: So, there was a post going around on Tumblr about how Harry is now the same age Sirius was when he died, and I emoted all over the page about that particular anniversary. Golden Trio, still BFFs forever.





	Remembrance

Harry’s got a thousand places to be, a million things to do. It’s not even one of the important anniversaries, the ones that The Prophet trumpets for weeks in advance and which mean he has to find his good robes and remember how to make polite conversation with people who kept their heads down and their mouths shut while their children were fighting monsters. Nobody would know what today was, or why it mattered.

But he’s just going to sit here a while, perched at the top of the steps as his cup of coffee goes cold and half the ministry are probably flapping around like headless chickens trying to work out where he is. The archway looks smaller now, and he’s no longer tempted to draw close. He’s got kids now, a family he loves and a job which gives him purpose. He no longer feels the draw of death.

But he’s still going to sit awhile and remember–remember curses flying and desperate voices, remember being young and in over his head, remember the man who laughed as he fought for his life, finally free to act.

Footsteps sounds behind him, the neat click of high heels, and then Hermione settles down beside him.

“I knew you’d be here,” she says and rests her head on his shoulder.

“You always know everything,” he points out fondly and leans his cheek against her still wild hair.

Five minutes later, Ron shows up, says, “Alright, mate,” and drops down on Harry’s other side. For some reason, his hair is a delicate shade of lavender and his freckles are glowing in the dark. Harry decides it’s best not to ask.

They sit there for a while, just the three of them, until Harry looks down at his wrist to mark the time. “There,” he says. “He never got to be this old.”

Part of him feels like he should have marked this years ago. At the age Harry is now, Sirius was still struggling in a way Harry hasn’t struggled in years. Sirius never got the chance to grow up, to experience what it’s like to find your place in the world, to breathe in and know who and where you are. In many ways, Sirius Black died in his twenties.

“He’d be happy you outlived him,” Hermione says.

“And he’d have a right laugh at James’ detention list,” Ron adds cheerfully.

Harry groans. He could have happily lived to a hundred without seeing Ginny send a howler like that last one.

“I still wish he was here,” he says. Hermione nods, her hair brushing his neck, and Ron grips his arm. They don’t need to say anything more.

And after a while, they get up and head back to their lives, arms linked. They’ve got responsibilities: jobs, kids, parents who aren’t getting any younger.

They’ve got each other.

And in the empty chamber they leave behind, whispers echo as the curtain shifts and shivers, never still.

And, as clear and bright as a bell, laughter sounds from behind the Veil, wild, free and forever young.


End file.
